


the mountain's lights have gone out

by skuls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s06e21 Field Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 12:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: Based on the prompt "things you said in the dark"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Original post: https://how-i-met-your-mulder.tumblr.com/post/155485347987/53-things-you-said-in-the-dark-mulder-and

He wakes up when light slices into his hospital room, blinking blearily until his vision clears. She is a silhouette in the doorway, tiny in her hospital gown. “I thought you were dead,” she says.

Mulder shifts into a sitting position, clearing his raw throat to gather up enough muster to speak. “Scully, you shouldn’t be out of bed,” he says. 

“Isn’t that my line?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Besides, you were underground for a longer amount of time then I was. Therefore, my recovery would be faster.”

“Okay,” he says. Clearly, she can’t be argued with at this time of night, on a mixture of painkillers and fatigue. She is steadfast when she is woozy. “Okay, but can you at least sit down? Please? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She doesn’t move towards the bed or the chair beside it. Instead she closes the door, shrouding them in darkness, and says, “I went to your _wake_ , Mulder,”

Her voice is trembling just on the verge of a sob, so he shakily gets up from bed and goes to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her into his arms. “You shouldn’t be out of bed, either, Mulder,” she chides into his chest, but all her normal bite is gone and she just sounds miserable.

“Scully,” he whispers endearingly. He guides them back to the bed and sits them on the edge. She makes no move to return his embrace, but she doesn’t move away either. “It’s okay. I’m here. Did you have a nightmare?”

“Your wake,” she repeats. “And I damn near went to your funeral once, in 1995. Do you remember? You were lost in the desert, and I didn’t know how to find you. So you found me instead. But I knew there was no chance of that happening this time, that you were really gone and you wouldn’t come back. I touched your bones, Mulder. I found your body in a field. And do you know what the worst part was? The last things we’d said to each other were arguing over that goddamn X-File!”

“Scully, it’s…”

“The same X-File that killed you.” And there’s a sudden hardness in her voice. “And I thought: _if the last thing he’ll ever remember about me is that I didn’t believe him, the least I can do is to make sure that everyone else does_. I was going to do more, I was going to find your sister for you, eventually… but I wanted to make sure that your death had closure, that there was no question about what really killed you. That you were right. That _someone_ believed you. And it took your death for me to. Believe you, I mean. It took the fucking Lone Gunmen telling me I was right to my face to make me realize that something was wrong.” She sniffs. “I owed you more, and I couldn’t even give it to you. No one would listen.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. He’s stroking her hair in a clumsy attempt at comfort. 

“You said that in the hallway,” she says, and he freezes. They have never mentioned the hallway, not since almost a year ago.  _You told me that my science kept you honest. That it made you question your assumptions. That by it, I’d made you a whole person. If I change now… It wouldn’t be right… or honest,_ she’d said, and he’d rejected it, and they’ve never talked about it since. “But you’re wrong.”

“Scully…” he starts, wanting to reassure her that she doesn’t owe him anything. She’s sacrificed her goddamn life to this truth of his, and what has it left her with? On his selfless days, he would tell her to leave, but his selfish days outweigh them and he needs her.

“I owe you the benefit of the doubt,” she says. “You were right when you said that, you know. It’s wrong of me to dismiss your theories every time.”

“I wasn’t right,” he says. “I wasn’t right because… Scully, do you know what made me come out of my individual hallucination? It was you. You believed me about the aliens, about the Schiffs, even with the shakiest pile of evidence imaginable. And I knew that couldn’t be you. More than that, it wasn’t what I needed. I needed _you_ , Scully, your rational science. I was right in the hallway, about how you complete me… I _would_ be dead, or at least out of a job years ago if it weren’t for you. You saved me, and there’s no denying that.”

“And you’ve saved me,” she whispers into his shoulder. “So many times. Do I even thank you anymore at this point? I should thank you.”

“You don’t need to.” It’s never been a question of whether he should save her or not, selfish motives or no. 

“I need _you_ ,” she says tearfully, grabbing a fistful of his hospital gown. “It took me too long to figure that out, but I do.” 

“You’re delirious.” He pulls back to press a kiss to her forehead, and she leans into it. “That’s what you’d say, at least. Painkillers. And exhausted. You need some sleep.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says stubbornly. “If I do, you might be gone when I come back.” 

He looks back and forth between the bed and the chair. “Scully, you don’t have to…” he starts.

“We did it in Kroner.”

They did, but in Kroner, she didn’t curl into his side like this. In Kroner, she didn’t rest her head on his shoulder, and in Kroner, he didn’t wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Missed you,” she whispers. “Don’t die on me again, okay?”

She is on painkillers, but then again, he was on painkillers when he told her he loved her. He kisses her hair, barely able to keep his eyes open. “I won’t,” he promises.


End file.
